For Good
by AnnaOtaku
Summary: By the dying fire of the Gryffindor fireplace, bonds and friendships of all sorts were formed, built to last a lifetime. A series of oneshots. Now playing: Neville Longbottom and Lavender Brown.
1. Weasley Twin Bludger Attacks

**So, I was trying to imitate ColourPearl's writing style a bit with this story. A bit. I certainly can't write as well as she can, and I'm not trying to _be_ her, I just like the way she does her song-inspired stories. They _are_ Twilight, mind you, but you MUST check them out. She is amazing! And like two years younger than I am(damn her).**

**So basically, this is a series of one-shots between different Gryffindors. I mean, you live with these people for years, and you never grow close? Bull-shit. You know there were some weird friendships formed in the confides of the common room. And it's my job to interpret them. Enjoy!**

_1993_

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_I've heard it said_

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Harry trudged into the common room, Oliver's late-night practice having worn him out. He had been the last to leave the showers, something Professor McGonagall would have had a fit about if she knew. With Sirius Black still on the run, she was keeping a tighter hold on everyone-Harry in particular.

The fire was dying slowly, casting a dim light about the room. People were slowly filing out of the room, bidding each other goodnight. After grabbing his bag from the dorm, he settled back into his favorite armchair, proceeding to finish Snape's particularly nasty essay on Bezoars.

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_that people come into our lives_

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Harry awoke to the sounds of sniffling. He bolted awake, realizing he had fallen asleep without writing the conclusion to his essay. Sitting up, he searched his person for the parchment, but couldn't find it anywhere. About to scream in frustration, a soft voice said, "It's on the table Harry. You were about to spill ink all over yourself, so I moved your quill and essay."

The source of the voice was none other than a puffy-eyed Katie Bell who was sitting in front of the newly-sparked fire, hands clutching an item Harry couldn't make out. Her lip was trembling, and she lowered her eyes, turning back to the fire. Her hair, normally pulled back into a bouncy ponytail, was down, hanging limply around her shoulders and into her face.

"Er, thank you. Are…are you alright, Katie?" He stood up, spine cracking from his uncomfortable sleeping arrangement, and sat next to the older girl on the couch.

"I'm just peachy, Harry. Really." Her voice cracked, and a lone tear slid down her cheek. Harry patted her arm awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Hermione had always told him to be sensitive around girls, but he never quite understood what that entailed, or even meant, really.

"Well, obviously not." Harry winced, thinking that wasn't _exactly_ the most sensitive thing he could have said. But Katie was a tough girl, and could handle his bluntness.

"Obviously. But do you _really_ want to hear about it?" She turned her head to face him, a knowing half-smile on her face. Harry shrugged.

"As much as any thirteen-year-old boy wants to. But the real question is, do you need to tell someone?" He and Katie had formed a bond on the team over the past few years. They were the two youngest, and even though Katie was good friends with Alicia and Angelina, they still looked down on her sometimes for being so…juvenile. But she never had the same feeling for Harry; she treated him like he was a fourth-year like her.

Katie turned her head again, face scrunching up with tears. Harry rubbed her shoulder, wondering if he should wake up one of the other Chasers. She suddenly wailed, covering her eyes with her palms.

"It's…it's Oliver," The brunette finally managed to saw through her sobs. "I-I-I've fancied him for some…time now…and-and I _just_ got up…the courage…to ask him out…._today_…b-b-but I walked in…after practice…and he w-was _snogging_…snogging Adrianna Benson. I-I…" She broke off, pulling her knees to her chest, burying her head in her arms.

Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leaning his head against hers. Her hands loosened, and Harry finally saw what she had been holding: a photograph. The occupants were laughing, smiling, and Harry recognized the intense smile and messy hair of Oliver Wood, their seventh-year Quidditch Captain and the source of Katie's pain. Next to him stood the aforementioned girl with a nervous, eager grin on her face, her brown hair short and her pretty face young. Oliver kept tossing the Quaffle out of the picture, and Katie was quick to catch and return it, showing off her superb Chaser reflexes.

"That was taken the day of my first practice, before you joined the team. My friend Leanne is a bit of a camera freak. She took a million our first night in the castle." She let out a bitter laugh, the tore the photo in half, tossing the pieces into the fire.

Without thinking Harry pulled out his wand. "Accio picture pieces." The slightly charred scraps flew from the flames, into his outstretched hand. "Reparo." The picture reassembled itself, the burn marks vanishing. Oliver and Katie waved back out of them, relieved grins on their faces.

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_for a reason_

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"What did you do that for, Harry?" Katie asked angrily, clenching her fists. The bespectacled boy just shrugged, handing the photo back to her.

"Years from now, you'll regret losing it." She rolled her eyes, looking skeptical. "I'm serious. What if, years from now, when you and Oliver Wood are engaged, you wanted a picture of your early years together? And you blatantly threw the only one you had away because you had been _upset_." She stared at him, eyes narrowing.

"Don't tease me like that, Harry. There's no hope for me and Oliver. Just let me wallow in my self-pity." She turned away from him, setting her chin on her arms.

"That's not a very Gryffindor thing to say, Kates." Her eyes flashed at him, teeth bared. He had used _his_ nickname for her. He knew very well that Oliver Wood was the only man on the planet who could call her that and _survive._ Lucky that Harry happened to be "The Boy Who _Lived_".

"Don't call me that. And who cares if I don't sound like a Gryffindor? I might as well transfer to Hufflepuff now and save myself the pain of having to watch him with any other girl but me."

Harry sighed impatiently, placing his hand back on her shoulder. "Seriously, Katie? That's the most pathetic thing I've ever heard. You're _tough_. You've been the victim of many a Weasley twin bludger attack. You can handle a _boy_."

She sat there silently, contemplating his words. Then, out of nowhere, she kissed him on the cheek.

"You're right. If I can handle Fred and George's bludgers, I can handle Oliver Wood." She pulled him into a tight hug before standing up. "_Thank you_, Harry. Really. You're a lifesaver."

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The next day at breakfast, Katie confronted Oliver. It started with an argument, and ended with a kiss.

Though he graduated at the end of the year, they still kept in touch. And whenever she was missing him, she just looked at the picture Harry had saved from the fireplace, and she knew she could never have asked for a better friend.

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_bringing something we must learn_

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**So? How was the first one? Please tell me! Please!!**

**The more you review, the sooner I'll update. I mean, school is starting soon, and I really wont have much time to update. But if I'm motivated, I will find time.**

**Up next: Lavender and Neville!**


	2. Be a Gryffindor

_1997_

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_And we are led_

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Lavender sat sobbing in the common room, shrieking at anyone who dared to come near her. Both Seamus and Pavarti had tried to calm her down, but they had just walked away with immense frustration and, in Seamus's case, a bloody nose.

Earlier in the day, the fair-haired girl had approached Ron Weasley, accusing him of cheating on her with none other than Hermione Granger. They had a rather large row, audience included, that ended in a relieved Ron, a tearful Lavender, and, of course, a breakup.

While most people sided with Ron(for once), they all took pity on the blubbering, and slightly psychotic, girl. But after a while, nobody really cared anymore and left for dinner. Everyone except Neville, that is.

The pudgy boy of sixteen raced through the portrait hole, searching frantically for the letter he was supposed to send to his grandmother. He knew that if she didn't receive it immediately, he would be in for a howler in the morning.

As he turned the Common Room upside down, he couldn't help but overhear the sobs and mutters from the (in his opinion) scary girl who was curled in a ball on the loveseat in front of the fire. Every so often, a word or two was clear.

"Stupid…git…cheat…bitch…Granger…Why?…love…can't…breath…stupid…"

Neville felt sympathy for her, but was too terrified to say anything. If the phrase "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" ever meant anything, it certainly did now. The remains of her latest tantrum surrounded her like the casualties of a battle: broken quills, pages torn from romance novels covered in spilled ink, a smashed bottle of perfume, it's sickening stench swirling around the girl like a fog, an upturned vase, water spilled and flowers strewn.

And then he saw it. His letter, written in his best cursive as to please his grandmother, was… on the loveseat. And Lavender was sitting on it.

_C'mon, Neville. You're a Gryffindor. You're brave! You've fought alongside Harry Potter! _He took a deep breath, crouching next to the pretty girl.

"Er, Lavender? Um, you're sitting on my- um, could you just stand up for a- well, I mean-" She glared at him, ripping the letter from under her leg quickly, shoving it into his hands. "Er, thanks…" She went back to murmuring to herself.

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_To those who help us most to grow_

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Neville stayed where he was, a new confidence rushing through him. "Are you okay, Lavender?"

Big mistake. "Of COURSE I'm okay! Why wouldn't I be? Oh, right! I just broke up with my BOYFRIEND! GO AWAY!" Neville wanted to run away so badly, but he held his ground, facing the monster that most Gryffindors would cower at.

"There's no need to shout, Lavender. I understand what you're going through-"

She laughed, sounding like a cat shrieking. "YOU?! What you YOU know about it? You couldn't get a girlfriend, even if you were Harry Potter!" It was a low hit, and they both knew it. Unable to say anything, Neville stood and walked away, reaching the portrait hole when Lavender regretted her words. "Wait! Neville! I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

He stopped, smiling sadly. "S'okay. I know it's true."

Lavender rolled her eyes, patting the seat next to her. "Of course it's not true, you prat." He tentatively sat next to her, stuffing his letter into his robes.

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_If we let them_

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She wiped her eyes, her new distraction slowing her tears. "You could get girls if you TRIED. But you're just too timid. Be a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake! BE BRAVE!" He jumped back, making her shriek-laugh again.

"But what girl would want to go out with me? I'm not cool." Lavender laughed for a third time, but softer, kinder.

"Neville, being cool is for bullshit relationships. Just ask out a girl you fancy. You'd be surprised who would say yes." She sighed, pulling back her hair with a hot-pink ribbon that had been tied around her wrist.

"You sound so sure." She quirked her eyebrow, unsure of what he meant. "You sound so sure, and yet, your entire life is based on being cool. Have all of your relationships been bullshit, Lavender?"

She smiled sadly, her eyes miraculously dry. Her eyeliner was smudged and her mascara had run down her cheeks, following the serpentine trails of her tears, but Neville thought she looked the most like _Lavender_, the loud, gum-popping, adorable eleven-year-old he had met five years before.

"Yes. They have. Seamus was just for show, arm candy for the ball. And Ron, well, he's a Quidditch player. That's cool, that's hot, that's…shallow. I know I'm vain, Neville. I know I'm petty. I know I…don't have anything else going for me. But you do! Sure, you don't have much in the looks department," he winced, but allowed her to continue. "But you're really good at Herbology, and you're sweet and caring and brave. You fought DeathEaters with Harry. That's…that's a million times better than being a self-conscious ditz."

Neville shook his head, almost laughing. "You're not a ditz, Lavender. You're really good at Divination. Even Hermione Granger couldn't see anything in those crystal balls, but you could! You saw that I was going to break my nose tripping down the stairs, and I did!"

Lavender smirked. "I didn't need an inner eye for that."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically, and they both laughed together, feeling at ease in each other's presence for the first time since they had met.

"How about this, then. If I promise to find a boyfriend for a boyfriend's sake, will you _please_ ask out Hannah Abbott?" Lavender asked, holding out her hand.

Neville was taken aback. "How did you know about-?"

She smiled deviously. "Oh, please. Do you really not know me at all? I know _all_ of the latest gossip, and a little birdie told me that a certain Hufflepuff had her eyes on someone in this room…" He smiled, his Gryffindor courage bubbling to the surface.

"It's a deal!" He shook her hand, the two sixth-years walked to dinner, talking and laughing like old friends.

After dessert, Neville went up, blushing, to Hannah, and walked away with a kiss-mark on his cheek and a date at the Three Broomsticks the next Saturday. Lavender watched him regale his endeavors to Hermione and Ginny, who both clapped and looked thoroughly proud.

But no one was as proud of the shy boy as Lavender Brown.

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_And we help them in return_

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End file.
